A day out with Red vs Blue
by Starath
Summary: One day, amazingly, both teams become incredibly bored and actually do what war is meant for... no, it's not for shooting Grif, Sarge. Go get that flag! Rated M for language, currently an ongoing series. R&R plz!
1. Chapter 1

**A day out with Red vs. Blue:**

The Enemy of My Anonymity  
By Starath

_Author's Note:__ This is a product of boredom and watching too much Red vs. Blue at once. I love these guys, so I thought I'd try some fan fiction. This takes place during the three months gap between episode 19 and 20. Special thanks to 138Scourge for proofreading this! For the record, I don't own anything here, but Caboose has proudly informed me that he owns a jar of strawberry jam. _

Caboose was bored. This should be surprising, given how little it took to keep his mind occupied. But honestly, what was there to do? He'd already checked. His gun was still in his hands. He was still standing on top of Blue Base, just like Church had told him to do. When was that, anyway? Two… hours ago? Sometimes Caboose vaguely wondered if Church told him to do things like this because he didn't want to be around him. But then he remembered Church was his best friend, and only a best friend would put him in charge of guarding Blue Base from attack. …. Attack from what, though? Oh yes. The Reds, who were for some reason their enemies. Caboose didn't know why, but Church told him so, and whatever Church told him must be true. Still, he was bored. He decided to talk to his new friend.

"How are you doing today O'Malley?"

The voice that replied through his own mouth was loud and nasty. "The same as two minutes ago! Now quiet you fool. I'm plotting."

"Oh." Caboose thought for a moment. "Plotting what?"

"Universal domination of course! Mwahahaha—ahem. Now. Be quiet."

"I… still think that is something Church should know about," Caboose suggested helpfully.

"We talked about this before. He doesn't have to know."

"But really, I think—"

"—Or you get no cookie and orange juice."

He whined. Ever since Tucker's mayonnaise collection arrived, there was no room in the fridge for his beloved orange juice. Briefly he wondered where O'Malley kept it.

"I keep it in the other fridge. Now stop bothering me."

Caboose gasped. "You can hear what I'm thinking?"

"…." O'Malley sighed. "Just stare at that rock over there. I'll give you another cookie if you do."

"Okay!"

Tucker poked his head out of the staircase, then disappeared back downstairs. He found Church holding his gun like usual.

"I'm telling you dude, something's not right with Caboose."

"Yeah? What was your first clue? The fact that he can breathe and stand up there at the same time is a goddamn miracle."

"Seriously. He was talking to himself again in that same scary voice he uses to threaten me."

"Tucker, Caboose wouldn't threaten you. Remember when he stepped on that worm by accident?" Church let out an aggravated breath when he shuddered. "The longest funeral of my _life_."

"I thought it was emotionally moving."

"… Don't remind me."

Tucker paced in a circle. It quickly became old so he paced a square instead. "You know, we should, like, _do_ something."

Church turned to him. "You, suggesting that? God, you MUST be bored. The most we could do is attack the Reds… or something."

"Well…" Tucker glanced outside and nudged his comrade. "We have a tank."

"… Are you proposing that we actually DO what we're supposed to in this war?"

* * *

"Men! We have a situation!" announced Sarge.

"Aw, we already had one yesterday," complained Grif.

"I'm sure it's worth our attention, though." said Simmons quickly.

"Right. Our situation is that I've COMPLETELY run out of things to do!"

Grif and Simmons stared at their commander. Finally, Grif figured he'd better be the first one to say it and get it over with. "…Sir, that's pretty much the norm around here. In case you haven't noticed."

"Of course I haven't noticed, Private, 'cos I've always been doing stuff. Unlike you, who sits up here all day scratchin' yer bum wondering where the sun comes from."

"… I know where the sun comes from, Sir."

"Well I can't spend all day explaining things to you now, can I? If you wanted to know these things you shudda become a scholar, not a soldier. Our job is blowin' stuff up!"

"Uh, Sir, about our situation," Simmons reminded him.

"What situation?"

"…."

"Dammit Grif, are you making stuff up again?"

"What? I didn't say it! Simmons did!"

"You're just makin' stuff up again. I can see through your ploy."

"Ploy? What—Okay, never mind."

"… So, about that situation, Sarge?" asked Simmons carefully.

"Oh don't get him started again!"

"I know. It's just fun to watch."

"I hate you, man."

"Yeah, that's nothing new."

Sarge growled. "Would you two cap yer flaps? I am _trying_ to describe our situation!"

"…."

"…."

"Now, as I was saying before I was so RUDELY interrupted, I've run out of things to do! So, here's what I propose: We could either attack the Blue Base for their flag. Or," Sarge motioned to Grif and ratcheted his rifle. "Grif, go down into the canyon and start running. Simmons, you stand here and make me look important while I shoot him. Let's do the second plan."

"On it, Sir!"

"WHAT?" squawked Grif, "Fuck that! I vote the first plan. Isn't that what we're here for anyway?"

"Are you questioning my orders, soldier?"

"Uh, YEAH, with the threat of mortal wounds and all. Let's go get the Blue flag for once."

"Hmmm…" Simmons considered. "He might have a point Sarge."

"He does? Aw damn," Sarge lowered his rifle. "Another grand plan gone to waste. If that's what you panty-sniffers want, then, fine. Ruin my fun."

"Don't take it personally. I like living." said Grif. "… Wait, if we're attacking Blue Base, does that mean I have to _do_ something?"

Sarge snapped his rifle up. Grif hurried towards the stairs.

"WOOHOO! Road trip!"

Simmons followed after him. "I call shotgun!"

"Dammit!"

Sarge huffed. He stepped to the edge of the wall and called down. "Hey Miss Donut, we're saddling up for battle, get to the Warthog!"

A frustrated, male voice cried back. "SERIOUSLY, it's not PINK!"

* * *

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**A day out with Red vs Blue**

The Sky is Falling…

By Starath

* * *

Church checked his sniper rifle and turned to Sheila and Tucker. "Ready to go, guys?"

Sheila's tank turret swiveled to "look" at him. "Affirmative, Church."

Tucker shrugged. "No, but let's go anyway. It's better than standing around making spit bubbles all day."

"Good." Church choked. "Wait, making _what_? How can you do that in your helmet?"

"It takes practice."

"…Whatever. Alright, let's get mo—"

"Hey, uh, Church?" Caboose peered down at them from the top of Blue Base. "Can I come with you?"

Church's shoulders bunched up. "Son of a…." He took a long breath and looked up. "No, Caboose, for the LAST time, I want you to STAY HERE. You can do that, can't you?"

"Yeah, we need you to protect our base while we're gone!" added Tucker.

"Oh…" Caboose sounded hesitant. "But, wouldn't it be better if I—"

"NO." interrupted Church. "You need to stay here, WITHOUT MOVING, or TALKING, MAYBE breathing, and make sure the… roof doesn't go anywhere. Okay?"

They heard Caboose gasp. "It can move?"

"…. Yes. That's why we need you here, and not with us. So you don't_ kill_ anybody. Again." Church grumbled under his breath.

"Okay! You can count on me! This roof isn't going anywhere while I'M here!"

Tucker and Church exchanged glances. Church sighed. "Glad to hear it. Tucker, Sheila, let's get out of here before he forgets this conversation." He followed his Blue comrades down the canyon path, and then remembered something. He turned back to face the Blue Base. "And STAY OUT of my junk food stash!"

They took off down the canyon path, following a route that would take them the long way to Red Base so they could come in near the back. It was unanimously agreed between the three of them that becoming visible as soon as they got to the canyon floor would be a bad idea, even if they did have Sheila in their very small ranks.

Caboose watched the little strike force go; wishing he could go with them. However, he realized that making sure the Blue Base's roof didn't move was a bigger concern. If it rained, what would they do? The roof was important! The fact that it never rained in Blood Gulch did not occur to Caboose, who was too busy staring at the ground beneath his feet with his gun pointed down.

"I have my eye on you…."

O'Malley attempted to force Caboose's body into standing up straight, but eventually gave up. "If I did not need you, I'd have you shoot yourself in the foot." He snapped out of frustration.

"Shh!" Caboose hushed him. "We need… to… stay… _still_. The roof might be on to us."

"Grr. I need a different body."

"O'Malley! Shhh! We… need to be… _sneaky_!"

The AI could feel his intellect slip away. "Technically, shouldn't the roof be _above _us?"

Caboose's head tilted back. He saw blue sky. "THE ROOF ESCAPED!"

* * *

Simmons fidgeted in the seat of the bouncing Warthog, wincing with each bump they ran over. He glared at Donut.

"You are never allowed to call "shotgun's lap" again."

"Hey, I have to go _somewhere_. Why are you complaining? This is comfy."

"…"

Up on the gun platform, Grif sighted through the gatling gun's scope. "Still no sign that they've seen us, Sarge!"

Everyone hung on to the vehicle when Sarge flattened the gas pedal onto the floor. Simmons yelped after the Warthog hit a large bump.

"Uh, Sir?" he asked weakly, "Why are we letting you drive again?"

"We're going in with guns blazing! Those danged Blues will never know what's coming!"

"Then—" ka-_THUMP_. "—shouldn't we be running with our—" thump-_THUD_. "—weapons—" _KA-THUD_. "Gah, damn you, Donut!"

"What? I'm just _sitting _here!"

"Piglet-wash Simmons! We're gunna rush up as close as we can and THEN hit 'em with everything we've got!"

"I'm not going to have much left if you keep driving like this!"

"Nonsense! I'm making sure the Warthog's shocks still work!"

"It doesn't HAVE any!"

"Grif, you see any Blues yet?"

"Umm…Yeah! There's one up on top and he's…." Grif checked again. "… Running around in circles."

"Damn! No doubt he's alerting his friends about our arrival! Alright, everybody OUT!" Sarge slammed on the brakes. Donut and Simmons instantly tumbled out over the windshield. Sarge chuckled. "That's what I like to see, men, dedication to my orders! Now go get them! Grif, you shoot down that Blue fella before he gets away!"

Simmons sat up and found himself sitting on top of Donut. "See, not so comfortable NOW, is it?"

"…I can't feel my kidneys," he moaned.

"Donut! Simmons! Up and at 'em! CHAAAAAAAARGE!"

* * *

"Oh crap oh crap oh crap!" cried Caboose, frantically looking for the missing roof. "Church is going to be SO mad at me!"

Faintly, a battle cry and the roar of an engine wafted over the Blue Base's wall. With all his will, O'Malley forced Caboose's body to freeze.

"What was that?"

_RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT!_

Bullets whizzed past Caboose's helmet and pinged off the hard concrete behind him.

"Satan's toenails!" O'Malley ducked for them both. "We're under attack you fool! MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

* * *

Church carefully arose from a crouch and looked over the large rock. Two hundred yards in front of him, Red Base was still. He'd been sitting there under cover for five minutes (after arguing with Tucker for fifteen minutes over who should do recon), and he hadn't heard a thing. He dipped below the lip of the rock and slowly made his way back to the small tunnel where his comrades waited. Sheila noticed him first.

"Welcome back Church. Did you see anything?"

Tucker didn't say anything, strangely enough.

"Nothing. It's weird. Usually the orange and dark red one are up on top bitching about stuff." He heard a small _pop_ from Tucker's direction.

"Really?" asked Tucker, slurping on some spit. Church shook his head and decided to ignore the teal-armored moron.

"They all must be inside. I was hoping we could lure them out, but with no one to get any attention from, I'm not sure how that's going to work."

Sheila pointed her gun turret out of the tunnel's opening. "I could get their attention if you like."

"As much fun as that would be, Sheila, I still want you to be our trump card."

"Well, do you have any other ideas?" Tucker sighed. "I'm bored."

"Hmm…" Sheila swept her turret back and forth as if thinking. "Church, my scanners indicate there are no life signs in Red Base."

"_What_?" He cried. "Nobody's there?"

"Affirmative."

"Uh…. Church," Tucker stood up on the balls of his feet to see over the rocks in front of them. "Their jeep is gone."

Although Church was now a ghost and had no real heart, he felt his metaphorical one go straight to his knees. He traded his gun for the sniper rifle and hurried out. "Tucker, Sheila, with me, NOW!"

While Sheila made herself comfy on Red Base's front lawn, Tucker ran to keep up with Church as he thundered up the ramp and into Red Base. By the time Tucker made it up onto the roof his fellow soldier already had the sniper rifle's scope to his helmet's visor.

"Aw SHIT!"

"What? What do you see?" panted Tucker, winded from the run.

"The Reds are over at our base—and they've got Caboose!"

* * *

_Oh dear, now what? Love it? Hate it? Want me to continue? Let me know, and thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A Day out with Red vs. Blue**

The Caboose is Loose

by Starath

* * *

The Warthog roared across the canyon floor. Running beside the jeep, Simmons and Donut did their best to keep up with Sarge's need for speed.

"Sarge! Sarge! Wait up for us!" called Simmons.

"This ain't no time for waitin', it's time for charging! I don't hear any bullets firing up there, Grif!"

Up at the gunner's position, Grif used the gatling gun's scope to follow the target. "The Blue ducked into the base just now!"

"He did? Aw poppycock!" Sarge spun the Warthog to the side and slammed on the brakes. The maneuver nearly flattened Donut, who managed to jump up out of the way just in time to collide with Grif on top. The Red soldiers hit the ground together, with Donut in Grif's lap.

"Oops, sorry!"

"Goddamit Donut, what is it with you and laps?" Grif shoved the rookie off him.

"Hey, at least I dodged the jeep! You were in the way!"

Sarge climbed out of the vehicle and readied his rifle. "Stow the gabbing you two, an' up on your feet! We've got a base to storm!"

Simmons stopped in front of them. "By now that Blue has probably alerted the others, Sir."

"Very good, Simmons. Now we just gotta get 'em outta there!"

"It'll be tough. They've got the defensive position." said Donut.

"Excellent observation." said Sarge, nodding.

"And we haven't any cover at all, and we lost the advantage of surprise." said Grif.

Sarge sighed. "Were you beaten as a child, son?"

"No."

"That's too bad. Now that we're done making note of the obvious, listen up! There's three of them and four of us, so what we're gunna do is surround 'em. Donut, you go with Grif to the opposite entrance. Simmons, you're with me. Seek and destroy, you got it?"

Donut bounced, excitement in his voice. "On it Sarge!"

Grif groaned. "Why do I get the rookie?"

* * *

Caboose peeked around the corner and saw Grif and Donut depart. Sarge and Simmons approached the ramp on either side with their backs to the wall. He ducked into the hallway before they could see him.

"Oh crap oh crap oh crap! What are we going to do, O'Malley? They're here for the roof and I'm the only one to defend it!"

"More likely they're here for the flag. And there's me too, idiot."

"But you don't have a real body! Unless you're a ghost like Church? Can you possess a paint can?"

"Hardly," snapped O'Malley. "We'll get rid of those Reds easily."

"I don't know how to be mean!"

"Shut up and I'll teach you. Do as I say and don't argue." The AI forced Caboose's head to look around. "Where's your armory?"

"Umm…" Caboose glanced down the T hallway connecting the one he was in. "Right!"

O'Malley took his body to the right at a full run.

"No, I mean the other right!"

The AI spun them around, snarling. "That WAS right!"

They entered the hallway intersection just as Simmons spotted them. "There's one!"

"Quick! Shoot him in the head!" cried Sarge. Their guns fired in unison.

_BANG! BANG-BANG-BANG!_

Caboose ducked and rolled, neatly avoiding the bullets. He came up on his feet and ran again.

"Did I do that? That was cool!"

"Focus!" demanded O'Malley. They entered a cramped room full of weaponry and ammo. The AI scanned the shelves and started gathering up materials.

* * *

"Oh, this is great!" cried Church. He peered through the sniper rifle's scope and ground his teeth. "The _one time_ we come over here, the Reds attack our base!"

"Why don't I ever get to use that damn thing?" asked Tucker.

Church growled and stood up. "Caboose got away. The Reds split up and went in after him."

"Are we going to rescue him?"

Church surprised himself with his immediate answer. "Yes."

"Wow, really?"

"Don't make me think about it, Tucker." He glanced down the ramp of the Red Base, then called out, "Hey Sheila? Do you have any trunk space?"

The tank rolled up alongside the base wall. "I do in my cockpit when no one is driving me manually. Why do you ask?"

"We're not leaving without what we came here for."

* * *

The Blue flag flapped in the nonexistent breeze of Blue Base's core room. Sarge stood before it, breathing deeply.

"Ah, ain't she purty? And they left her all by her lonesome, too!"

Donut looked between his commanding officer and the flag and shrugged. "If you say so, Sir."

"This side is clear!" called Grif. "Simmons says he's got Caboose penned up in the west end. We can't find anybody else."

"Yeah, aren't there supposed to be more Blues around here?" asked Donut. "You said three, right Sarge?"

"Hah, no doubt they saw us comin' and ran outta here like little wussies!" Sarge chuckled. "The Charge routine works every time."

"But I heard two voices earlier," said Grif. "Maybe somebody's with Caboose?"

"Or maybe you're just hearin' things." said Sarge. "In fact, I think I hear things whenever you talk, but I can't understand anything beyond 'blah blah, I'm Grif, I suck!' "

Grif sighed. "Okay, just for that, I'm not sharing any of the junk food I found in the barracks."

"Ooo! Ooo! You found real junk food?" Donut dashed up to him. "Can I have some? Please?"

"No way! Finders kee—"

A scream of panic and frantic gunfire cut Grif off. An explosion made the Reds stumble to keep their footing.

"STAY BACK!" shrieked Simmons.

More gunfire zinged through the hallways and splattered into the core room. The Reds flung themselves against the walls for protection.

"What in Anthony Bourdain's earring is going on?" cried Sarge.

Grif had to shout to be heard over the sounds of battle. "Sounds like Simmons is in trouble!"

"No shit!" Sarge ratcheted his rifle. "I'm going in! You two cover me!"

"Cover?" echoed Donut. "I'm not sure I know how to do that!"

"It's easy, you just aim for Sarge and miss!" Grif followed Sarge out. "I'll take right, you got left!"

"Right!"

"No, _left_, Donut!"

He dodged left. "I know what you meant!"

The soldiers came around the corner and hustled down the hall until they came to the T intersection. Bullet holes riddled the concrete walls in crazy patterns. Another explosion jolted the Blue Base. Smoke raced through the corridor, filling the tight space. Somewhere, Simmons screamed and fired his gun.

"I can't die! I've got more kissing up to do!"

Horrible, evil laughter carried over the plea.

"Fuck this! I'm outta here!"

"Sarge…." Donut swallowed loud enough to be heard.

"Steady, men, stay cool—"

"Gyyyaaaaaahhh!" Simmons suddenly appeared in front of them, his armor blackened with soot and ricochet marks. He careened into Sarge, bounced off the wall, and kept running.

"Great horny toads!" Sarge brought up his rifle just in time to prevent himself from shooting Simmons. The bullets pinged off the concrete and everyone danced to avoid getting hit. Something hard struck the floor and rolled under their feet.

Donut peered through the smoke and spotted something blue on the floor. "Hey, is that a spider?"

"Huh?" Grif saw the blue glowing object too. "GRENADE!"

A second grenade lit up and bounced down the hallway. Sarge watched it come to a stop. "Hmm. That's one funny-looking spi—"

Donut and Grif grabbed him by each arm and ran backwards. "Run now, speculate later!" shouted Grif.

The grenades went off with a one-two punch that blasted the Red soldiers through the hallway with the shockwaves. They caught the corner of the second hallway and pulled themselves into it before the smoke engulfed them. Sarge shook himself free.

"I'm not running from anything, and certainly not from a filthy Blue! I'll tag 'im and bag 'im! I'll geld 'im and weld 'im!"

A low, menacing voice answered Sarge's challenge. "You think you can, do you?"

"Of course I do!" Sarge spun around. "Which one of you said that?"

"It wasn't me." said Grif.

Donut gulped and pointed. "Um… um… um…"

"What's the matter, boy? Spit it out!"

A figure emerged from the smoke with a lit grenade in his hand. The blue light floated up and down as he caught it after each light toss. His head was tilted to the side and a rifle was carelessly resting on his shoulder.

"Blue!" Donut blurted.

Caboose laughed in O'Malley's voice and threw the grenade at them. "Here, _catch!_"

* * *

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

A day out with Red vs. Blue:

Showdown at Blood Gulch

By Starath

_Author's Note:__ Special thanks to Lady Venom for proofreading this chapter. Onwards to chaos and misadventure!_

* * *

Grif caught the grenade. He didn't want it.

"Here Donut!"

The other Red soldier hastily backed up. "I don't want it!"

"But you and grenades get along so well!" Grif shook his hand. The hissing grenade clung to his palm. "I need this limb for later use!"

"My limbs are important too!"

"Not as important as mine!"

Caboose laughed in a manner that wasn't human. "You're running out of time…"

Sarge shoved Donut to the side and swapped his assault rifle for his favorite shotgun. He aimed at Grif. "Hold still, Private!"

"What the— No! I'd rather take the _grenade!_ The gren—"

The sharp _POW_ of the shotgun reverberated through the hall. The grenade flew backward and stuck itself on the wall behind Caboose. A furrow the size of a shotgun shell smoldered in Grif's open hand. He wavered.

"Sarge…?"

"Move it you knuckleheads!" Sarge pushed Grif and Donut back the way they came. "Before it—"

The grenade went off. Debris showered them and pinged off their armor. Thick blue smoke made it impossible to see beyond a few steps. Donut stumbled. His comrades grabbed him by the arms and hauled him out of Blue Base. When they broke out into sunlight, Grif released Donut and staggered about, puffing for air.

"You two alright?" asked Sarge.

"That Blue is scary!" whined Donut.

"Sarge," Grif managed to say, "I gotta know—"

"Before you read too far into it, don't! If anybody's gonna waste you, it'll be me! Or a long fall! Or a misplaced 747 jet engine!"

"But not some lousy Blue?"

"I should hope not! What would I do if I needed to initiate Operation Meatshield?"

"Hey, where's Simmons?" asked Donut.

Grif straightened up. "You mean that trembling maroon lump behind the jeep?"

A spitting blue grenade landed at his feet. Grif suddenly had more energy to run with. "Move over Simmons!"

Donut followed right behind him. "Wait for me!"

"What is this?" barked Sarge, "Coward's Day? Get back here on the DOUBLE!"

The exploding grenade blocked out any replies he probably hadn't gotten anyway. Sarge grumbled and wiped dirt off his helmet's faceplate. When he looked up he stared down the barrel of an assault rifle.

"Hello, Sergeant," said Caboose. He sounded like he was smiling. And like he had a cold. Caboose usually sounded… dumber. "It seems your men have deserted you."

Sarge didn't flinch. "Poppyseeds! Shows how much you know. They're in standard back-up position!"

"Hiding under the Warthog?"

"Of course! What better place is there?"

Caboose snorted and muttered something about being surrounded by idiots. Sarge met him visor-to-visor as if the assault rifle wasn't there. "Listen you, you can frighten off my men but you can't scare me!"

"Oh really?"

"And we're not leaving without what we came here to get!"

"That insignificant piece of blue cloth? Honestly, the games you soldiers play. Is it really worth your life?" Caboose laughed, but there was no merriment in it. "You're more pathetic than I gave you credit for!"

"Don't make me angry, Blue." warned Sarge. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

Caboose waved the gun an inch from his faceplate. "Bring it, Red."

* * *

Church glanced over his shoulder to be sure Tucker had followed him. His comrade popped out of Red Base's teleporter, coughing. His teal armor was black.

"Again?" cried Tucker. "Seriously, what is up with these things?"

"Who cares?" said Church, breaking into a full-out run. "We need to move! Sheila, are you on to us?"

The Scorpion-class tank rumbled away from Red Base. Her voice came through the radio. "I'll be behind you at top speed. Go!"

Tucker hurried after Church. "Why is it this canyon always feels bigger when you have to run through it?"

Automatic gunfire erupted in the distance. The crack of a shotgun answered it. Church tried sighting through his sniper rifle's scope as he came up a hill, still running. No good. Too unsteady.

"Hang on Caboose…"

* * *

Sarge had avoided getting shot by bashing Caboose under the chin. Just barely. Tufts of grass sprang out of a trail of bullets meant for his head. He dodged for cover. There wasn't any. Sarge landed in a crouch and fired off two rounds. Caboose neatly sidestepped them. The Blue soldier backpedaled in a wide arc, putting more distance between them. Sarge sprang up, cursing. Too much distance and his shotgun's close-range power would be worthless.

"Git back here you walking target!"

"Come and get me, oh _glorious_ Red leader!"

Caboose fired at Sarge's feet to make him dance. Sarge leapt sideways and pulled the trigger. A shotgun round pinged off Caboose's helmet. He staggered and shook off the impact. He reloaded his clip and gunned Sarge down.

"I can reach you, fool! Can you reach me?"

Sarge threw himself into a tumble and came up running. Caboose's aim was better than usual—he felt his armor pucker across his thighs and buckle over his ribs. Turning, he fired three rounds. Caboose was too far away for them to be effective.

"Cover…"

The rock? Not big enough. The tree? Too far away. The Warthog? Currently occupied by three morons who would rather hide than fight. Sarge momentarily lost sight of Caboose when he disappeared around the curved wall of Blue Base.

…Blue Base?

Sarge studied the ramp leading to the base's roof. It looked the same as Red Base's. He reloaded his shotgun shells and grunted.

"Right. Easy."

Bullets kicked up a line of dirt in front of him. Caboose had backed away from Blue Base, well out of shotgun range.

"That's what he thinks. Heh."

Behind the jeep, Donut wished he had popcorn. He was crouched between Simmons and Grif, all three of them peeking over the Warthog's gunner platform.

"I had no idea Sarge was so kick-ass." said Grif. "But don't tell him I said that."

"Of course he is!" said Simmons. "He's _Sarge!_"

"Shouldn't we help him?" asked Donut.

"And ruin the show? No way! This is Red versus Blue. It's classic." said Grif.

"I suppose." Donut shrugged. "I wish we had a snack, though. You know, like the movies."

Grif offered him an open box. "Crackerjack?"

Sarge waited for Caboose to reload his weapon before he began his run to Blue Base. He bobbed and weaved in true military style to avoid the next hailstorm of ammunition. He sprinted up the ramp and onto the roof.

"Fool!" cried Caboose, "You're exposed up there, just waiting to be shot!"

Sarge plowed across the rooftop and leapt.

"Heee-yaaaaah!"

He fired off four rounds before he hit the ground, each one hitting Caboose's chestplate harder than the last. He landed and rammed the Blue soldier's stomach with the butt of his shotgun. Caboose groaned and doubled up. He fell to his knees.

"Aw, don't like it up close and personal? Too bad! Looks like you just got _Sarge'd!_"

Sarge's shotgun went off twice. The first shell struck Caboose's hip armor. The second missed. Sarge cried out in surprise when Caboose smashed his helmet into the sergeant's legs. Losing balance, he tumbled backwards. His elbows took most of the impact but his head cracked onto the ground. Dazed, he saw the sky and Halo ring far overhead; that's when he saw a shadow, and felt the barrel of an assault rifle pressed to his throat.

"Impressive," said Caboose, "But futile."

Sarge jerked his leg around and slammed it against Caboose's heels. Caboose jolted forward and gasped. Sarge's shotgun prodded his stomach.

"I wonder who has the quicker trigger-finger?" Sarge asked him.

Neither soldier moved. They stared at each other in a grim, uneasy silence.

Simmons jumped up. "That's it. He needs help."

"Aw, can't we watch a bit longer?"

He took the driver's seat of the Warthog. "NOW, Grif!"

Donut climbed up onto the gunner platform and spun the turret around. What he saw behind him made him yelp. "Uh oh!"

"What is it?" asked Grif.

"Here come the Blues! With their tank!"

He scrambled into the passenger's seat. "Screw this, I'm not staying."

Simmons stomped on the accelerator. The Warthog heaved into motion just as several sniper shots whizzed by.

"Fuck!" Church cried. "I missed them!"

"Like that's anything new?" demanded Tucker.

"Get them Sheila!"

The roar of cannon fire boomed once. Simmons jerked the steering wheel hard to the right. The impact of a tank shell thundered into the ground where the jeep was seconds before. Donut watched the tank take aim again. He held the Blue soldiers at bay with the gatling gun. A _boom_ sounded from the tank.

"Incooooming!"

The cry galvanized Simmons into evasive maneuvers. The Warthog's rear wheels briefly left the ground when the tank's round landed too close. He regained control and drove toward Caboose and his leader.

"Grab Sarge!" he yelled.

Caboose saw the jeep just in time to jump clear of being run over. The vehicle separated him from his enemy.

"NO! Out of my way!"

"Sorry Caboose, fun's over now!" said Simmons.

"My name is O'Malley!"

"Whatever!"

"What the? Is that you, Grif?"

"Unfortunately!" He hauled Sarge into the jeep. "Time to go!"

"You can't have him!" said Caboose, "He is mine to kill!"

Donut stopped firing at the tank and swiveled the gatling gun to point at him.

"I'll… kill him some other time!"

Sarge was scarcely off the ground when Simmons gunned the accelerator and sped away.

"No, wait! My favorite shotgun!"

"You have more at base!" yelled Grif over the engine and another explosion.

"Oh shit shit shit!" Simmons saw the tank turret swing around. Scorpion versus Warthog? No. He focused on the Blue soldiers in front of them. Church took aim and shot out the jeep's left headlight. A second sniper round skimmed past Grif's visor.

"The hell?" he yelped. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"This had better work," Simmons said through clenched teeth.

On the gunner platform, Donut saw the hill ahead of them and the Blue soldiers beyond. The tank halted, its cannon barrel fixed on the Reds. His gatling gun did nothing but make it laugh.

"Simmons, the tank!"

"I know!"

"The Blues!" cried Sarge, struggling to stay in the jeep and Grif's lap.

"I _know!_"

"We aren't going to make it!" Grif shouted.

Simmons flattened the gas pedal to the floorboard. The Warthog raced for the hill. The Reds hung on tight.

"Oh—"

"My—"

"Gooooooooood!"

The tank fired just as they crested the hill and left the ground entirely.

Tucker and Church threw themselves flat. The Warthog roared overhead, and underneath, a tank shell whistled by.

"Holy shit!"

"Yeeeeeeah! Suck it Blues!" Simmons landed the jeep and headed straight for Red Base.

After a long moment, Tucker sat up. One hand gripped his chest, over his heart. "Those guys are fucking nuts!"

Church didn't need a heart to feel the ghostly version of adrenaline coursing through his body. "No shit. Isn't anybody _normal_ around here?"

Shaken by the doubly close call, the Blues made it back to base after Sheila. She had pulled alongside Caboose. He fired his assault rifle at the retreating Reds.

"And stay out, cockbites!"

"Caboose, are you alright?" she asked.

He shook his head as if clearing it, then looked at her as if she had magically appeared. "Oh, hi Sheila. I'm just peachy! How are you?"

"Your armor doesn't look, uh, 'peachy'."

Tucker approached them, wiping off dirt and black teleporter gunk. "Are you hurt?"

Caboose shrugged and shouldered his weapon. "I think I'm okay. Hey Church!" He bounced up to his all-time best friend in the whole wide galaxy. "I protected the roof, just like you told me to!"

"I can see that." For once Church sounded more bewildered than annoyed. "Against the Reds? All by yourself?"

"Nah, I had O'Ma—" He suddenly punched himself in the face. "—I mean, yup! All by myself! Pretty cool, huh? It's like somebody else was moving for me!" He took another swing at himself but stopped in mid-motion. "It hurt the first time, O'Malley!"

"Good! That was the point!" A rougher voice, from his mouth, answered.

Church and Tucker exchanged glances.

"See?" Tucker cried.

"Uh, hey, did you guys get the flag?"

"Yeah…." Church pointed at the tank with his sniper rifle. "Sheila's got it."

"Wow, great! Good job guys! Can I see it?"

"Sure. It looks just like ours, though. Except, y'know, red." Church circled Caboose, examining him. "Let's get you inside to check you out. You're pretty banged up."

"Really?" Caboose looked himself over as if just noticing. He laughed nervously. "I've never felt better!"

"Whoa!" Tucker's voice came from inside Blue Base. "Did you have a small war in here?"

Church stepped indoors to see. "Holy fuck! Caboose, _what_ did I tell you about setting grenades off _IN the base_?"

Caboose poked his head in. The smoke had mostly cleared by now. The walls were covered in grenade residue and bullet holes. A chunk of concrete fell from the ceiling. "Uh… sorry?"

Shaking his head, Church went into the core room. And froze in mid-step.

"Son… of… a… _bitch._"

* * *

Donut hopped off the gunner platform as soon as the Warthog stopped. He ran to Red Base and hugged it.

"Home!"

Sarge crawled out of Grif's lap, making sure to beat on him as much as possible.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Simmons immediately went to his side and supported him before he could fall. "You're awfully trashed."

"Oh really? I wonder why! I was ONLY left to do battle with the enemy on my own, shot at by a laughing tank, then dragged halfway across Blood Gulch, hanging out of my own jeep, AND I lost my favorite shotgun! Now WHY would I look trashed, eh?"

The Red soldiers cringed.

"We're alive." said Simmons quietly.

"And if makes you feel any better, Sarge, your fight with Caboose was awesome." said Grif.

"Amazingly, coming from you, that doesn't do a damn thing for me!"

"But it _was_ amazing, Sarge! I thought you were too old to move that fast!" said Donut.

Sarge growled. "Son, say that again and I'll make you eat your faceplate." He moved shakily, wincing when his armor sparked. "All that trouble for nothin'. What's this team coming to? Bunch of cowards and deserters, if you ask me!"

Simmons coughed. "Actually, Sir?"

"What?"

He kneeled and reached under the Warthog's frame, between the wheel wells. A tightly wrapped bundle dropped to the ground, formerly secured by a metal clip. Simmons picked up the Blue flag and presented it to his commander.

"Mission accomplished, Sir."

Sarge tilted his head, momentarily speechless. He carefully took the flag and unfurled it. The blue cloth flapped lazily when he swished the pole. He laughed.

"You crazy son of a shotgun! You drive like a maniac and steal like a weasel! Well done, Simmons, well done!"

"Thank you, Sir!" He literally glowed.

Donut came out of Red Base and hesitantly approached them. "Um, guys?"

Sarge turned to him, still laughing. "What is it, Private?"

"Our flag is gone."

An abrupt silence fell over the Red soldiers. Finally, Grif sighed.

"Great. Now what?"

* * *

"_Now what?" indeed! Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think! In the meantime, this is to be continued!_


End file.
